Love's a Cockbite
by noisedrifter
Summary: At first, it was just an obligation for him to guide her and watch over her. After all, he was her mentor, and she was just a rookie. Of course, it all went to hell when he actually started to have feelings for her. Wait, that's not when things went wrong. It all went to hell when HE got inside his head. WashxOC Note: Arizona is now Vermont
1. Chapter 1: Reminiscing

Washington had told Caboose and the others that he would be taking a sick day today, only to have Caboose tell him that he didn't look sick, unless he had been abducted by the aliens and had gotten pregnant like Tucker once had. After Washington told the blue soldier to leave countless times, Caboose finally left when Washington offered to give him a cookie and orange juice later.

Sighing, the former Freelancer found a nice spot on the bay overlooking the sea and gazed across the ever-moving, rippling waters. He roamed and delved into memories that he had sworn to lock away forever in the deep recesses of his mind. That is, until recently, when he decided to break the binds on his nostalgia. Washington had thought that these wounds of his would mend over time, but the memories were still stinging and fresh, now exposed to the air of the present day. With incredulity, he looked down at his light blue armored hands and curled them into fists.

"Washington." A tiny figure in white armor with a bluish glow materialized behind him.

The former Freelancer didn't miss a beat. Without turning the figure's way, Washington said, "Epsilon, I'd appreciate it if you'd let me be alone for the day. I'm off work right now." Even though Washington tried to sound civil enough, Epsilon could see right through his weak attempt to conceal any remaining contempt the new blue soldier had for the AI.

"The name is Church," the figure snarled.

Grabbing tightly at the grass next to him and examining it, Washington quietly but firmly replied, "Of all people, you especially should respect what I'm asking of you." He pulled his gaze from the mangled green in his hands and pierced him with a stony stare. "You might have forgotten what had happened on this day, but I never will."

But Church did not budge. In fact, he rested on the man's shoulder. It was slight, but a tremble was running through Washington's body. This time, the AI spoke softly. "It wasn't your fault."

"That's right," the former Freelancer said quietly. "It was yours." Bitterness rolled off Washington's tongue. At this, Church gave no reply. "Just go, Epsilon. Just for today. I want to be alone."

Then Washington could hear a small voice say, "You're wrong, you know. I remember as well as you do." And soon, he found himself alone with no one beside him. His visor shielded his face, but inside the helmet, Washington was desperately trying to hold the dam he put up to keep his sadness, his anger, and his bitterness at a standstill. Reaching for a compartment in his armor, the former Freelancer pulled out a small, silver dog tag. It read:

Agent Vermont

Project Freelancer

_"Hi, I'm Agent Vermont. Nice to meet you."_

_ "You're adorable, Wash."_

_ "Don't let go!"_

_ "I can help you. Just tell me what's wrong."_

_ "I'd never hate you, but I'll never forgive you if you don't keep on living."_

_ "I love you."_

I love you. The phrase rang throughout Washington's head as if someone were using his head to bang a gong. Painfully, his heart ached and the man clutched the dog tag tightly, doing what he swore never to do: he cried.

**Hey, guys! Lately, I've been really obsessed with RvB, so I decided to write this. I was disappointed to see that there weren't many Wash love stories (that were my taste, anyway), so here's what I have to contribute! Chapter 1 is short, I know, but I hope you enjoyed it. Uhhh, guess that's it. 'Til next time.  
**


	2. Chapter 2: Introducing

Mother of Invention: The Freelancer Classroom, 7:30 PM, many years ago…

"Thank you for coming, everyone," the Counselor said. The room was dim as always with the exception of the blank luminescent monitor behind the Counselor and the Director. "Now, let's call roll."

"Agent Carolina."

"Here."

"Agent Texas."

"Here."

"Agent Maine."

A hiss confirmed his presence.

"Thank you, Agent Maine. Agent Wyoming?"

"Present, old chap."

"Agent South."

"Here."

"Agent North."

"Here."

"Agent York."

"At your service."

"Agent Connecticut."

"…Here, sir."

"Agent Florida."

"Always ready for duty, sir."

"And Agent Washington."

But only silence answered the call.

"Agent Washington," the Counselor repeated; however, no voice responded. "Are you here, Agent Washington?"

With a growl, the Director barked, "Washington! Your ass, front and center! Report!"

Just then, the metal door from the back of the classroom slid open with hiss, making way for a certain Freelancer's hasty entrance. Panting, he replied, "Agent Washington, reporting, sir."

"Where were you?" the Director questioned with cold eyes. "You are to be punctual to all meetings and missions."

Subdued, Washington mumbled, "Sorry, sir."

The Director's voice oozed with irritation and intolerance. "I don't want an apology, Agent Washington. I said, 'where were you?' Where could you have been that is more important than a group meeting?"

Sheepishly, the Freelancer diverted his gaze and replied hesitantly, "I…I was taking a nap, and I overslept. I took a shower and tried to snag a quick dinner, but F.I.L.S.S. had closed down on me."

A few, mainly South, snickered at Washington's explanation, and the Director sighed, "Take your seat, Agent, and don't pull that kind of crap on me again."

When Washington took a seat, the Counselor resumed the meeting. "Well, everyone, today we would like to introduce to you a new member of Project Freelancer." He looked at the door behind him to his left and said, "All right, you may come in now."

With a soft hiss, the door slid open, revealing a soldier with Mark VI EVA armor, an armor designed just like Maine's. The armor's ugly swampy green with dark gray blue accents reflected the dim light even more dimly. The Freelancers all watched the figure intently as the person glided across the room to the Counselor's side.

"Introduce yourself," the Director ordered.

A firm female voice that seemed to slither like a snake spoke. "Hi, I'm Agent Vermont. Nice to meet you." She paused and then asked, "Um, am I supposed to say something else? Like age, favorite color, hobby-"

"That will be all, Vermont," the Director interrupted. No one could see it, of course, but everyone just knew about the grin under her visor. Admittedly, some others, York in particular, were grinning a bit as well.

Stepping forward, the Counselor announced, "Since Agent Vermont is new to us and our program, we have decided that she will need a mentor to guide her. Furthermore, we have already decided who it shall be."

"Ugh," South groaned. "Hope it's not me."

The Counselor looked at his clipboard and then looked up to address all of the Freelancers. "Agent Washington."

At first, the agent blinked and then exclaimed, "What? Why me? I mean…why me?"

"Yeah, I have to ask, too," York said. "Why Wash? Wouldn't a more experienced agent make a better mentor? Wash is the newest of all of us."

But the Director raised his hand, silencing the two. "We have thought about this as well, but it may be good for Agent Washington to have a little responsibility. Maybe he'll work a little harder." Looking at Vermont, the man motioned to the empty seat on Washington's right hand side. "You two get along now."

Walking over to her new seat and settling in it, she glanced over at her new guide and smiled a bit. "Hey. Washington, right?"

But he shushed her, not even looking at her. "Unless it's not relevant to the meeting, be quiet."

Vermont raised a brow and replied in a hushed tone, "I think a greeting is certainly relevant. After all, how can you be a proper mentor without interacting with your charge on a personal level?"

"Quiet!" Washington hissed.

"I'm just saying, it'd be easier for me to understand what you're teaching me if you and I can be pleasant with one another."

"Washington!" the Director barked.

Immediately, Washington put up a hasty salute. "Sir!"

"Quiet down over there. You can talk to Vermont about the arrangement later. We're reviewing our goals and bringing up any issues that we might have."

Washington tried to protest, "But she was talking to me-"

"I'll have none of that. Now, shut up and pay attention."

Sourly, Washington sent the female Freelancer a glare. However, instead of giving him an apology, Vermont grinned mischievously and strangely enough, Washington just knew she was flashing him such a taunting expression. Something told him that she was going to be the most bothersome co-worker ever. Of all time.

* * *

The basic tour that Washington had to give Vermont after the meeting would've taken only one hour if the female Freelancer wouldn't have tried to get him off-topic. Barely one day and Washington was already getting a headache.

"So, your nickname is Wash, huh?" Vermont piped up as they left the mess hall.

Rolling his eyes, Washington led her down a hallway, saying, "Now we're going to head to the practice room. There, you can work on combat and create simulations to test yourself. To get there, you take this hallway and make a left."

"It's cute. I think I'll call you that, too," she decided with a chuckle.

"No, you won't," Washington snapped. "I'm your superior, so call me Washington. And pay attention. You'll need to know your way around while you're here."

"Why are you so stiff? Relax a little."

Glancing back at her, he replied firmly, "Listen, I'm just here with you because it's protocol. Orders from the Director say that I have to be your mentor, and that's what I'm doing. We can be buddies later, but now, just focus on my instructions."

"Aw, that stings, Wash," Vermont said with mocked pain, putting a hand over her chest. "Yeah, we're on the clock now, but it wouldn't hurt to loosen up." Then she grinned and continued, "Hey, how about this? Wanna spar in the practice room you're about to show me?"

"Wait, what?" Washington cried. "No! You need to make a reservation to practice there."

This time, she rolled her eyes, and then she grabbed his hand and began dragging him down the hall. "Down this hall and then make a left, right?"

"Are you listening to me?"

Swiftly, Vermont turned to him and said, "Don't be a baby. Besides, this is technically part of the tour, right? You're just going to show me the practice room, that's all."

"Yeah, I'm going to show you the practice room. Outside of the room. Through the display windows on the upper floor." Roughly, Washington withdrew his hand from hers and continued walking, causing Vermont to trail behind. "Besides, you'll get to use it tomorrow."

Vermont raised her brow and inquired, "Huh? How come?"

"For a drill. The Counselor is going to test your skills and stuff, so he can assign you a duty. All the rookies go through it. Everyone here usually just works on the field, with the exception of North and York."

"Well, what do they do?"

"York is basically our hacker; he gets rid of all the locks that the buildings in our mission might have so that we can go through smoothly. North watches from a bird's eye-view to let us know what the enemy is up to. Both are qualified for fieldwork, though." Washington paused and then asked, "Do you have an idea what your specialty is?"

Thoughtfully, Vermont rested her hand on her hip and replied, "Hm, well, I'm not a great pilot. I guess I can do fieldwork, but I think I'm more brains than brawn, if that counts for anything."

"Huh?"

"Means smarter than stronger, Wash."

He grunted and said, "Yeah, I got that."

Vermont laughed and noticed that they had come to wide observation deck. Looking down from the display windows, she saw a spacious empty metal room with certainly enough room for the most destructive of battles. "So, this is it?" she said, following with a sharp whistle. "Nice."

Walking over to a control panel, Washington told her, "Here, you can tell F.I.L.S.S. how you'd like to train and what kind of terrain you'd like to be in. When you enter the room, you can also tell her if you want to run through the training again." Then he turned to Vermont. "That's the end of our tour. Any questions?"

"No, besides the question of where I can get some shut-eye. I'm beat," she yawned. "The ride from Earth to here was exhausting, and the food they served sucked."

"Oh, yeah. Okay, well, let's head over to the dorm."

During the whole trip to the other side of the ship, Washington had to endure her attempts at small talk and her constant teasing on how he was so fixated on "protocol." At least on this first night with the Freelancer, Washington had learned four things about her: one, she was twenty-three years old, making her the youngest of the Freelancers; two, her favorite color was yellow, but it had been decided that yellow armor wouldn't do well for camouflage; three, her hobby was writing stories; and four, she had taken a liking to annoying Washington. He learned the first three reluctantly since Vermont wanted to complete the introduction that she wanted to make in the classroom, and the last was his own, and most likely correct, conclusion. Without a doubt, Washington knew that York or North would make a better mentor to this girl. Not only did they have the experience, but they definitely would have the patience. Or at least, they would be more patient than Washington himself.

"All right," Washington said finally when they reached the quarters. Looking down at the itinerary, he began, "Okay, Room 26… Hey, that's my room!"

"Really?" Vermot snatched the paper from him and looked it over. "Don't get too excited, Wash. You're Room 26, right? I'm in the room next to yours, Room 27. You must have misread it." Then she slapped it on his chest, causing him to fall back a bit and grab the paper.

"Oh, I see," he briefly replied, a faint blush growing on his cheeks. For this, he felt grateful for the visor shielding his face. _That would have been the worst room arrangement ever. Of all time. How could I even room with a girl, anyway? _Washington thought. _That's like a cheesy romantic sitcom plot._

One of those smirks that Washington could just see spread thinly across Vermont's face as she sauntered over her door. "Disappointed?"

"No, of course not," Washington retorted. He was starting to get annoyed with her constant toying with him.

She probably smiled under that visor, probably thinking that Washington really did want to share a room with her. "So, all I have to do is use the key card that the Counselor gave me to open the door?"

"Yeah, just slide it like a credit card." Walking over to her door, Washington tapped the card slider, which looked like a credit card swiper, positioned where the door's handle would have been. Door's unlocked from the inside, though, so you don't have to swipe your card to get out." He walked over to his door, which was right next to hers. "If you need anything, just knock on my door, I guess," Washington muttered.

As if she were oblivious to Washington's frustrated and tired behavior, Vermont simply replied with a light tone, "Thanks, Wash. G'night." And with a swipe of her card, she disappeared into Room 27.

After Washington unlocked his own door and made his way into his room, he flopped on the bed with a thud. In his mind, without a doubt, North would have made a better mentor since he was, after all, nurturing and caring to everyone on the ship. He was basically a Mr. Mom, and Washington thought of South as one of North's own kids that he kept in check. If not North, York would have been a great candidate for a mentor with his easy-going demeanor and his kind way of talking to people. To add to that, York was presently number three on the leaderboards, number two when Tex wasn't around. Turning on his side, Washington sighed. So, why him? Knowing the Director, Washington didn't think he would have much of a motive for pinning something like this on him. If anything, the Director maybe wanted to pick someone and just get the process over with. Maybe York, North, Wyoming, and Florida were busy with other duties, and that just made him next on the list for possible mentors. Even Washington couldn't see any of the girls as guides; they just weren't the touchy-feely type, and Maine wouldn't work for obvious reasons relating to his speech.

_Well, whatever the reason was, this is what the situation is now. I better stop bitching about it_, Washington thought, sulking a bit. Soon after, he drifted off to sleep, his dreams free of stresses and an annoying Freelancer named Vermont but full of food to make up for the dinner that he had missed.

**Helloooo, everyone. Here is Chapter 2 of Love's a Cockbite, and might I say I felt extremely derpy when writing it. It was just one of those chapters where it feels awkward to keep on writing, you know? Like you know what to write but you don't know how to exactly move the story forward? You don't know? Then please excuse my rambling. Anyways, what I'm trying to say is I did my best on this chapter; however the writing may seem mediocre. But fear not! Better writing to come in the future (hopefully). I have great ideas and hopes for this story, so I hope things will go according to plan. Okay, thanks for reading and stay tuned!  
**

**EDIT: I have edited Chapters 1 and 2. My OC's name is now Vermont, and her armor color has changed.**


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